When the Flower Met the Icicle
by Takato Lover16
Summary: When an orphan's best friend and only family is kidnapped, and his village is burned to the ground, a mysterious figure omes out the flames and rescues him. But who is this mysterious figure? And can it be trusted?
1. Prologue  The Language of a Wolf

Prologue – 

The language of a Wolf

My lips burned; chapped by the blizzard. A crack upon frozen lake echoed, daring me to tread just a little heavier. I stopped, crouching low beneath the swamp of mush and snow, and dragged a pearly white scarf up over my facial features. Cold, blue eyes were all that remained.

Pink dusk hung low above my position, entrenched under the canyons of splintered trees, twisted down with ice and smut. Blinking away thistles arching toward in streams of diamond-threaded gusts, I grimaced at my bitter surroundings.

Then, my foe, my enemy, the one who must be killed, emerged.

A furry, razor-coated wolf emerged from the tundra. Deep crimson engulfed around its jaw line – liquid from a fresh meal. Lowly growling, marking its territory, the white wolf scanned around, sniffing wildly – its nose seemingly immune to the frost.

Those wolf eyes stared into my position, then, left.

Fear enveloped me, yet I resisted its cruel blade thrust deep into my spine and reached warily behind myself, grasping for my weapon.

Fingers scattering with calm urgency, a thin, finely carved bow began to form with the touch, and I pulled it straight over my shoulder and into the battlefield, careful not to agitate any of the clumsy surrounding snow.

In spite of my anxious breathing, the beast remained unaware of me, at all; it calmly neared a smashed icicle and licked at the remnants – obviously desperate for any form of hydration.

A strange, foreign feeling erupted within me – begging me not to attack the creature. However, I silenced these thoughts quickly with my years of training and readied my bow; arming it cautiously with a sharp, greenly tinted arrow.

Palms sweating, even through the unbearable cold, I drew back the projectile, string almost tearing with the pressure, closed an eye, spied the wolf, aimed, and shook; I shook there, unable to do anything.

Figures of my mentors rose up from the shadows and scolded me for my weakness; they chanted:

"Pathetic! Useless! Weak!"

Water forming in the corners of my eyelids panicked with the cold, but froze almost immediately. Arms locked in that same, aggressive pose; unable to move, I whimpered. My hands instantly burning, hotter than the sun; closing my eyes with pain – I had to let go.

Eyes exploded open. The arrow shot – cutting through the air with a devastating whip. Aiming hampered by my emotions, it barely skimmed the beast's shoulder.

Wolf eyes fuelled with an instinctive anger bit and lunged toward me. The Animal readied its pounce from a mad dash, springing beyond the dead snow.

I raised my bow, drew another arrow. The wolf jumped, exposing its chest. I shot.

A short, pained wail escaped the beast as the arrow impaled deep into its heart. Then, it simply lay there, motionless.

I no longer felt the need to cry. My teachers had been right all along:

"There is no place for emotion on the battlefield. Show no mercy, for you shall receive none. Emotion is the greatest weakness. Kill or be killed"

Only then, after my first kill, did I fully understand their language.


	2. Maze of Dirty Eyes

Chapter 1 – Maze of Dirty Eyes

"We'll meet in a crimson rain,

Unaware of the others' name.

The icicle will burn,

And the flower,

Little different.

A wish begging survival

Claws in the night sky,

Yet our biggest flaw is in front,

Unwavering:

When the flower will meet the icicle;

This rendezvous by life,

Will lead them

Only

To death"

Cradling the book of poetry in my lap, I held tight the spine, protecting from the relentless gusts. I sat aside a charming field, sprayed randomly with dots and swirls of colours formed with conversing flowers and fragrances.

From where I relaxed, upon the window frame of a time-forgotten fort, I held a unique view of Thorntree village – my home.

The village itself is very poor; the houses are made from old, weakened wood, and the roofs made of hay. Once a place with rich mineral wealth, the paths structuring were lay with one of the rarest stones around, yet all the traders are long dead and no-one buys it anymore.

My turquoise eyes spotted the low, fiery clouds of early dusk, and this encouraged my legs to stand up; I stretched like a cat and hopped from the ruins, some stone chipping off and scattering all around with the ground's cold reception.

The sun disappeared entirely, beyond the horizon, lighting another part of the world; all the white fluff, mutated into black tar. I wrapped my arms around myself, attempting to conserve any heat I could – fighting against the icy waves.

Like in reverse, my efforts only emphasized my chattering of teeth movements. Feeling the familiar path beneath my bare feet, I smiled a little, but that was soon evaporated by the sky beginning to leak.

The sudden darkness and moisture compelled a flashback – an earlier today's argument with my brother.

I felt he hated me, as I shivered through the bitter rain.

A dim light adopted the colour of sadness and stained my face – an oasis for tear ducts. I struggled to see through the magnetized, blurry liquid and dropped my eyes, narrowing. The source of light, now fully out of sight, ceased to be in its entirety and left me alone in the black.

It was all because of a stupid conversation.

Water drops slid through all the holes in my shirt and irritated my skin, crawling all the way down to my legs which were protected barely by my trousers, trousers which were far too short for me – to someone who didn't know better; they were shorts.

Another light came into foggy view – I was finally home. Upon seeing the sight, I quickened my pace, desperate to dry off and get at least a little warmer.

The door had holes created by woodworm and splintered edges, forming quite a dangerous runway. I opened it slowly and glided inside, closing it again behind me.

Candles stood, unhesitant, granting the form of the room to my eyes. A jug of clear water surrounded by bread, meat and various other fruits and vegetables lay on a faded, polka dot spread – my favourite.

In my irises, water developed growingly, almost hateful of my brother's niceness. I felt bottomless guilt every time he did anything for me; knowing he'd already done far too much than I'd ever deserve of him.

Takuya notices sometimes, my tears, but I hide them again. I'm just selfishness – crying for a little attention.

He always asks me if I'm okay, but of course I'm not.

I'm a liar in front of him. Once or twice, I think of how I'd wish him to push me just a little harder, to tell him the truth; but I'm not that strong.

Takuya walked in, held my shoulder.

"Are you okay? I'm sorry about earlier."

I tried saying:

"I'm okay"

But of course I'm not.


	3. Caramelized Moonlight

Chapter 2 – Caramelized Moonlight

I held a hand outright, fingers spread, through the scent of around 4AM – not yet the beginnings of dawn. Takuya was not to be felt. Concerned of my sibling's whereabouts, I whipped the old sheet off me and clambered worriedly out from our improvised bed.

Ignoring the yells forming from my tired eyes, I moved to the window, all the while, part of me still in a dream. I fully awoke, however, as I saw a figure marching with determination through the darkness of the morning.

The figure not being Takuya seeming like fiction, I swiftly shot through the door and into the nettling wind.

The silhouette took concrete form as I neared – it was Takuya. He walked nonchalantly down the wooden, swaying pier and came to a halt after hopping down from the movement, and onto the grainy sand, gently rhythmic by the bay.

I ducked behind a sharply ridged rock and my nosey eyes began to eavesdrop.

Takuya exposed a piece of paper and rolled it like a scroll, not bothering to check if anyone was witnessing his actions. He continued to place the leaded object into a weatherworn, green bottle and screwed a cork tightly into the summit.

Finally, my brother waded shallowly into the tide and laid his intentions into the Canyon Sea, releasing a titanic sigh.

I whispered swamping footprints into salty H20, the unfastened molecules coldly caressing my bony ankles; the interfered deep whimpered lightly, managing to perk Takuya's ears upward in awareness.

"Takuya" Seagulls dispersed, fluttering.

He froze yet turned.

"What're you doing here?"

Like a faraway iceberg waiting to melt, I held my breath – wishing thoughts contemplating an alibi. In silence, the Solar System could have rearranged in some unsaid conversation and still, in this silence, silence would be all that remained; in that same silence, Takuya began an unheard walk away.

"Don't go" My lips won the race.

Without a little uncertainty, he transformed our position face-to-face.

"Tomoki, what is it?" Takuya stroked mousy brown from my eyes, sounding concerned.

"What was in that bottle?" I was surprised, as I said this, to see his eyebrows arise.

"A letter… For Mum and Dad"

They dropped once more, tears forming below them, dampening his eyelashes. The wetness encouraging moisture of my own; acidic memories scolded me and I raised my palms to cover my face – ashamed.

Takuya opened his arms, just wide enough and I bolted inside, burying my face deep inside his chest, feeling the torrents freely roam and stain his tacky shirt in countless locations.

"I miss them so much" I sobbed, unshielded.

"So do I" Takuya's own tears spilled down my bangs and slid onto the very tip of my nose, like an undecided waterfall.

I left Takuya there, on the bay, catching fish for supper. My task was collecting firewood from the old fort I was visiting, yesterday.

I spied the moon, emerging from the clouds' careful concealment, waiting for the sun to proudly boast its rays and light the world of today. After acquiring the firewood, I stacked it neatly next to a slanted rock, my improvised seat, and simply watched the world.

I took out, once more, my poetry book, and read aloud:

"When I came to be;

Standing on the brink,

I pondered the sight of that waxed moon;

All alone in space,

Would it hear my voice if I sent a greeting?

If, for a splint in the atmosphere,

A sound wave emitted far distance,

Would fire Stipulate?

Would the emptiness interfere?

Every thirteen or so hours,

You must disappear for a little while,

Tending to the Earth,

Lunar guardian.

You are bonded to all our hearts,

Touching me throughout your journey;

With all this love shot straight toward you,

And all this love you fill me to the brim with,

Why must the tears fall?"

I always feel content after a poem, even when all my thoughts are focused on my late parents – died in the desert, exploring a canyon.

A sigh emitting from my voice box, I gathered the planks and walked lopsidedly for a moment, before accomplishing balance. Grinning at my own clumsiness, I smiled, nearing the side of the village's ancient well.

A scream rang out, like a banshee.

The wood dropped in surprise, scattering and tumbling; clunky, deep sounds echoing around the bareness.

I turned. An old man was in front.

He stumbled gracelessly, weighed to one side, a look of petrifaction tattooed on his face. I stayed not moving, cautious of the man. Then, in an instant, he turned and fell, a deep crimson spreading like death across his shirt's spine.

I sprinted helplessly, grazing my knees as I landed beside.

"They're… Killing-" He stopped breathing.

I fell back, scampering away in fright, my heart almost smashing through my ribcage.

In the close distance, edge of a forest, I spied staggering lights, positioned professionally in a concealed arch. They were all set free. Shooting through puffs of smoky cloud and rain, the lights hid themselves.

A long second crawled.

Like self-destructing fireflies, an inferno of blazes crashed down upon the rows of hay-roofed structures and long paved footways of stone.

Volley after volley, the fire spread endlessly.

I hampered up and fell running through the bushes, unknowing and unbound of anything; once nearer, feeling that same stone under me, I looked through the smog and muddy dust, and saw a sickening sight.

The sight – my village, my home, engraved, without a verdict, with an orange crimson; Lifeless corpses scattered around like fallen angels burned with the same intensity. Adrenaline overtaking every other thing, I shook violently, charging forward toward my house.

Fiery wisps hailed down, detonating within the contact. I ducked, tripping over fallen logs; infernos spurting from the ground, shooting soot into my face and tiny pebbles to scratch and tear manically at any exposed skin.

I yelled for my sibling as I crashed through the door of our house – a burning counterpart of what it once was.

Sweat plummeted down my blackened skin, attempting escape from the stubborn flames. I searched frantically, for any sign of Takuya.

Then, the entry collapsed within itself; scolding debris flaking and shooting toward me – blocking my escape like a wild dragon.

Coughing in desperation, I shrunk to the floor, begging for fresh air and fugitively running away from becoming alight. Within a final grasp at freedom, I pounced through the blazing wreckage of a window, gritting my teeth as if I were a wolf.

The outside air seeming like Heaven, I landed roughly upon jagged stones and patted away little, stray flames attached to me.

All the deadly rain had ceased – dark sky crawled above. A slight quietness came to be, until grotesque snarls and war cries echoed in the closeness, followed obediently by tall, menacing shadows appearing from the gloom and dark, grounded clouds – evaporation in reverse.

Bladed weapons glimmered and reflected in their fiery ally, and I began to run.

Deathly screams erupted behind me, followed by the no noisiness of lives lost.

Tightness in my chest choked me; I fell into the nearby foliage, choking on something invisible. Bodily liquids rose in my throat and I vomited into the helpless grass and dirty, rock edged surroundings.

Wiping my mouth in disgust, the vile smells nauseated me further, thin breaths materialized back into my lungs, and I chucked myself up and began to sprint once more.

Floorboards of the bay creaking with the impact, I winced at the noise and began to tip-toe quickly, searching for my brother.

There, he lay, motionless – almost to the point of being dead.

Deep venom stung the water from my eyes; I ran out of power, falling to Takuya's side. His chest rose irregularly and his breathing even less. I cried, tightening my eyes in an eclipse; I collapsed my face next to his – the moisture turning steam long before the impact.

"Please stay with me" I begged to a whisper.

Two evil growls pounded into my ears.

I was thrown away by a huge hand, sliding almost off into the sea. Looking up to see the attacker; I saw clearly two gigantic men, armed with knives, swords and other pointed weapons. They were both outfitted with torn clothing, dyed red with the last breath of their many victims.

"Don't touch him!" I demanded; rising to my feet with clenched fists and a lie of strength I did not possess.

The murderers picked Takuya up by his hair, feet dangling innocently, and raised a dagger to his delicate neck.

With blind rage, I bounded toward them; with no weapon, I was certain death wasn't far away.

In an instant, a sharpened, triangle tipped blade sliced a line upon my abdomen. A whimper leaked my rusty fingers, stained with blood, and I fell onto the darkening wood.

Turning to look at his latest victim, the bearded beast stood over me with a grin plastered on his features.

A weapon, targeted at my heart, began to descend;

And I felt the conscious world slip from my reach.


	4. Rain

Chapter 3 – Rain 

War was always there. War, through history, remained glued. War; all the blood, death, weapons, tears and death; it struck my family; my grandfather; my dad.

"I just want some time alone!" I'd shouted.

"Oh, honey, if that's what you really want" She then left, granting my wish.

I'd lain silent under the bed sheets, crying, as if that'd solve it all. Crawling from beneath the plateau, I remember staring into my reflection – another ugly day.

The blade lowered; causing a drip dropping of blood; corroding the bathroom sink.

Open, like remaining closed, darkness quaked all around. Stinging hands outstretched, almost scratching away the rippled steel surroundings; I shook violently, vocal cords paralyzed by shock.

A stray line of outside inside proved hope was yet defeated, and beckoned my nearing.

Illuminated dimly by overhead oranges, the metal space echoed cargo containers aligned neatly across there and back again. Downward, below my shirt, a thick, white bandage lay pressure across bladed wound, forcing painful reminiscence.

Icy pings splintered my bare feet as I advanced down the row.

Snap!

I swivelled around, a menacing figure stood before me. The shadow's uniform reflected that of a soldier, balaclava hiding its face and weapon pointed threateningly.

My lungs froze.

"I found one hiding by these boxes" He informed, loudly.

Worn metal walkways screamed with the call and made appear two other clones of the original.

"Stay where you are!" They ordered, as if I wasn't melted to the floor.

Small distances nearer, they advanced, death instruments poised – impatiently begging an attack. Not even daring to raise a white flag of arms above head, I squinted before the final two centimetres were smashed into broken pieces.

Pulling, whip, sharp through air, rush, then nothing – all in a millisecond

Light; red, dusty fog, two leaking corpses and a final one-to-be shooting erratically, spent bullets clanging, all around in circle bursts; I scrambled to the floor, losing height to just above the shooting's boots, and covered by head protectively.

Rifle clicking emptily, the terrified soldier snatched his radio away, slight static; silence; thud, silence.

Turquoise; another puff of crimson, hanging restlessly; I heard a sudden movement and a silhouette land dirtily graceful among its victims and dead, golden tubes.

Fear and adrenaline controlling me like a puppet, I sprung boldly;

Dad had always tried to keep me away from the weapons of war, yet I clenched my fists and unbuckled the corpse's holster, acquiring his weapon. I held my stretched arms unsteadily, précised my eyes; the foreign weight outstretched.

"You, Stop!" The dark figure grinned to itself, and then sent me a serious look.

He neared, unfazed by the weapon – a few feet fell between us.

"You're not going to kill me" A few steady words.

I couldn't speak. How could he have known? Thrusting the weapon slightly further in front, in a false truth of a sent dare, I shook more – this whole encounter terrifying me.

"Your hands, they're shaking – you've never held a gun before, have you?"

Sweat boiling in the heat; I felt a greater need to appear strong, the more he doubted me.

"Try me; I could kill you right now" I lied.

"Your eyes aren't the eyes of a killer"

He walked casually, in a semi-circle, around, near my back – exposing the frozen state. Suddenly, a pang of something unheard, then, the weapon, snatched from my hands, lay content in the shadow's grasp.

I backed away, spine shuddering with the cold, bare metal, touched. He raised the gun to my face, until; then again, it lowered once more.

"I'm not going to kill you" He admitted – that seeming, all at once, never his intention.

"Who are you? Where are we?" Gaining slightest courage, I stayed roughly where I was.

"My name is Kouji Minamoto, and we are in a cargo freighter travelling across the Canyon Sea" The shadow spoke coolly. I was amazed he'd actually answered.

"I rescued you from the village"

"What about my brother"

"He's not your brother" I just stared, anger growing.

"The entire island was bought by your parents, its residents evacuated and replaced with mercenaries sworn to protect you, even your 'brother' was one of them. The memories of your 'parents', and everything he told you, it's all been false"

I wanted to object, but somehow, I knew it all to be true; I whimpered down, ground entangling my knees to its loneliness and those damn tears began to form.

"Why don't I remember anything before living at the island?" Desperate for my answer finally, I stared my reddening eyes toward him.

"After what happened to you and your real parents, your depression caused your mind to close down the memories of what had happened"

"What happened?" Despite my brain's wishes, I asked.

Entering the light, the man lay suddenly barely older than myself; loose, rag-like clothing, time affected bandana, cold, blue eyes; shaped coal hair; lonely face.

"That is something even I don't know"

Punching metal in irritancy, skimming skin off within all the blood – I felt dizzy with it all.

"My objective is to get you safely to Warehouse 57 in Hourglass City"

"Who are you protecting me from, and why do I need to be there?" I looked up, cold, all the information slowly freezing my heart.

"That's all I can tell you for now" He said simply.

I remained silent, and nodded.

"I'm going to dump these bodies overboard; you should return to the container and get some rest" He suggested, though we both knew that'd be impossible.

"You should take this" He held out the black pistol.

Not even knowing if I'm not the kind of person who'd kill someone, I took it, reluctantly, still, and made way back to my temporary home.

I don't know who I am, or was – but now, there is nothing but warehouse 57.

**End of Chapter**

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